


A Thanatology of Pleasure

by lunicole



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Robots & Androids, Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, M/M, Robot/Human Relationships
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-06
Updated: 2020-12-14
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:35:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27409711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lunicole/pseuds/lunicole
Summary: Kun is moderately well known as an Adjuster for his straightforward techniques and high success rates, and while earlier in his career, he would pretty much take any job that presented itself to him, he can now focus on more lucrative, high end cases. On his lap, there’s the printed out file on the mark, one of Kun’s failsafe plans when it comes to jobs like these, a relic of a more dangerous time where these kinds of jobs weren’t as legal as they are right now.On the paper, a serial number, and an android codename: Ten.
Relationships: Chittaphon Leechaiyapornkul | Ten/Qian Kun
Comments: 16
Kudos: 28





	1. Chapter 1

#  1

Kun gets the assignment through email, and it’s an interesting assignment, it really is. He reads it with his morning coffee in hand, hanging out next to the window of his sparsely furnished downtown condo he got himself in Tokyo as a small watering hole he spends time in between jobs. He scrolls through the message with a slight frown on his features, and while he had been told by his therapist to take a little break after his last gig in Chongqing, the hefty sum detailed for what seems like a standard refurbishing job definitely has his attention.

It’s a standard job, and it’s in Japan, too, meeting the android, talking with him, making the necessary arrangements for the next step in refurbishing, both from the legal side of things, and the practical matters like transport, catering and conditioning. Kun’s good at this, has been ever since he graduated from college, spent a few years bouncing around odd jobs while failing to ever get his music career to take off, unsure of what to make out of his life, before resigning himself to something that was both stable and lucrative employment.

It had its perks. The condo and the gadgets and the security that came with all of this was one of them, that was for sure.

Kun isn't desperate for money but there is that new Drone he's been looking at for a while. A new model from SM Industries, slick and sharp-looking, all decked in black, with a price point in the thousands of credits, something he could own like an aggressive display of having ‘made it’, because this is why he works this job. After all he doesn't do what he does for some vague sense of duty, or love of the work. He refurbishes for the paycheck that comes with a job like his, the glamor that money can buy while being an Adjuster. 

So maybe he will take it. He knows he’ll have to explain himself and give some excuses or whatnot when he goes for another checkup, sitting in a cubicle and filling out questions about whether or not he feels overwhelmed by the weight of living on this planet, but it’s okay. He’ll say he can handle this, that this is meaningful for him, that he’s been following his routine and his medication is stable and that he’s fine, he really is, he’s fine.

Kun sighs, shakes his head. On the building facing his, there’s a hologram display of a new virtual reality show they’re premiering next month, starring a new line of VR stars, a group of fresh faced boys with bleached hair and smooth skins and legs for days singing about being beyond human. He chuckles at it, a little bit, shifts his attention to the rest of his email, the content of the job offer still spinning in his head.

He finishes his coffee, does his breathing exercises, puts on his biohazard mask, heads out for a run. Outside, the leaves are starting to turn gold under the cool wind of late September, city pavement under Kun’s feet as he runs, fire in his lungs, in a good way, still. The river shines brightly outside, glittering diamonds over the water.

The usual path of his morning run leads him through a nice mix of both city blocks and public parks. They’re mostly empty at this time of day, which is normal, given how Kun’s schedule clashes with regular testing drills over the city. He’s a special case, with his lungs, which is why he gets the mornings to himself, in what feels like a deserted metropolis expanding under his steps.

As he feels his heart beat wildly in his chest, he can’t quite make it drown out his thoughts. He’s still thinking about it, that email, the words about the Android, the attached pictures, the detailing of the job in itself. Something simple, nothing too complicated. 

A contract totalling nine hundred thousand credits. Enough for him to retire from being an Adjuster for a least a year.

A year away from the job. How crazy would that be? Kun having all that time to himself. Maybe he’d finally have time to travel. Maybe he’d do something new, something they’ve talked about with his therapist, get back to composing music and writing songs.

A car almost runs him over as he engages into an intersection, and that is enough to drag him out of his own thoughts.

“Watch where you’re going, asshole!”

The tires screech on the asphalt before Kun has time to react much. He just blinks, a bit stunned as his near-death experience, watches the car disappear in the street, a deer caught in the headlights. 

Then, he shakes his head, chuckles to himself for being so silly, focuses on finishing his run before getting more work done during the day.

*

“A new job, uh?” Hendery’s hologram asks in Mandarin, sitting on Kun’s kitchen counter as he prepares his evening meal.

“Yes, a new job,” Kun echoes, voice equal.

He’s chopping the tofu in cubes, movement precise. Usually, cooking is his happy place, or, if not happy, at least his relaxed, zen place. He hadn’t found it in himself to decline the call he’d gotten on the apartment interphone as he’d started getting everything ready, his  _ mise en place _ set up perfectly on his small counter, a balm upon his properly medically diagnosed obsessive tendencies. 

Hendery’s a sweet kid, underneath the bratty attitude, and having him around is good for Kun, at least that’s what he tells himself. Besides, it’s also good business; Kun mentored him when he started getting into the business of refurbishing, and instantly sensed his potential as an Adjuster.

“Didn’t you say you were going to take a break at last?” Hendery’s projection says, peering over the various spices Kun is using in his stir fry. 

Kun winces as he rushes towards the wok, turning off the fire by half to make sure the oil doesn’t reach smoking point. Hendery is being a fire hazard. He really shouldn’t have taken that call.

“It’s a really good job,” he counters, eyes on the food he’s preparing, a sharp twist of the wrist to make the meat twirl into the wok. “I need the money.”

“... You always say that, but do you, really?”

“It’s a really good job, I mean it.”

There’s a sharp sizzling sound that cuts into their conversation as Kun focuses on adding more aromatics, then the tofu, focused. Hendery doesn’t seem to mind, observing Kun’s craftsmanship, but he doesn’t relent either, once Kun’s turning off the fire and .

“How good?”

“Nine hundred thousand credits good.”

That seems to be enough to shut Hendery up for long enough for Kun to plate everything and finally sit down to eat. The hologram seems to get back into motion with a bit of a lag, and Kun offers Hendery’s projection a bowl of rice with chopsticks too.

“Well shit…” Hendery says, and the hologram picks up the rice in the bowl easily, tastes it experimentally through the neural bridge that allows three dimensional communication like this one. 

It’s not too hard to distract Hendery with food and conversation, about the job, mostly, because this is what they are to each other. Hendery is a polite boy, and he never fails to praise Kun’s culinary skill as he eats. His very slight accent peaks up, at times, when he lets it slip. Apparently, Hendery’s back in Macau for now, spending time with his family after a big assignment in Hong Kong left him utterly drained and exhausted.

“Rest, you know? You should try it, Kun,” the hologram tells Kun with a knowing smile. “Maybe even if it costs you a nine hundred thousand credits job.”

Kun finishes eating alone, that night, in his sparse, bone white apartment. He thinks idly, as he looks at his chopstick, that the sharp reds of the Sichuan peppers he used for the stir fry might seem like the only dash of color in his life. 

He knows he’ll take the job, has known from the moment his eyes fell upon the email. Rest. He’ll get rest, maybe, in the future, when he gets this job done.

Kun lays down on his bed, looks at the ceiling, fingertips brushing against the port he’s got on the back of his neck, lukewarm metal against skin. He closes his eyes, lets out a long sigh, before getting up for his shower and night time routine.

It’s silly to needlessly get worked up over this, because Hendery is just a brat who pokes his nose where he has no business to be.

*

Kun’s travelling in the opposite direction of morning rush hour. Centers tend to be located outside of cities, secluded facilities that make refurbishing a more discrete endeavour. There’s definitely some shame about it, which explains the comfortable living Kun is able to make out of it; not a lot of people are cut out to be Adjusters, he’s come to learn, especially when it comes to the toll that it often ends up taking upon the human brain.

Tokyo is pretty in the early fall, leaves crunchy under his feet as he walks, and he inhales, exhales, through the biohazard filter mask. The metropolis has this interesting relationship with seasonality, one that’s even more striking as the masses hover in and out of the air-conditioned public transit in cookie-cutter grey suits, passing brightly lit up advertisements for chestnut flavored coffee drinks and persimmon desserts. Kun can’t deny that there’s a part of him that’s fond of Japan, aside from it being a good market for someone with his set of skills. Back when he’d first started working here, the translator that would help him discuss with Japanese clients mentioned something about a cultural affinity for automation, along with a sense of purity that made work like refurbishing something better left to foreigners.

The suburbs pass him by through the train window, big towering skyscrapers replaced by smaller constructions, walled little gardens, then the fields and forests. Kun doesn’t pay much attention to them still, eyes on his phone, a concerned expression on his features.

The mark belongs to a series of android models that Kun has never worked with, and that in itself is a bit of a surprise, given Kun’s somewhat long run in the job of adjusting. He ends up doing some research about it first, checking up some specifics about both the android in question, and the setting in which they wish him to perform the refurbishing. There isn’t a whole lot available, as this one seems to be old enough to predate the transparency agreements, and ultimately the corporate mergers, between the three large conglomerates that pushed out the first generation of domestic androids.

The Center where their first meeting is scheduled is one of those high end places, in an ancient lakeside resort with several thermal stations taking advantage of the low level volcanic activity within the region. Kun’s checked up the details of the location beforehand, the installation are top of the line, the job is looking like an easy one, which makes the price point feel strange and unusual. He knows some androids require special care, and he knows certain android owners only want the best when it comes to refurbishing, which could probably explain why they sent him a request, upon what seemed to be a recommendation from one of Kun’s former clients.

Kun is moderately well known as an Adjuster for his straightforward techniques and high success rates, and while earlier in his career, he would pretty much take any job that presented itself to him, he can now focus on more lucrative, high end cases. His gear is way better than what he used to have, too, safely packed inside his suitcase, portable and mobile, a lot smaller than the desktop adjustment machines he needed to mount and dismount when he first started this work.

Thinking about this makes him feel old, suddenly. He shakes his head. On his lap, there’s the printed out file on the mark, one of Kun’s failsafe plans when it comes to jobs like these, a relic of a more dangerous time where these kinds of jobs weren’t as legal as they are right now.

On the paper, a serial number, and an android codename: Ten.

*


	2. Chapter 2

#  2

The sun shines still from the inside of the Center, and the hallway is bordered by large bay windows. It’s a pretty building, somewhat dated, and it makes sense, as Kun had read the place had been formerly used as a resort hotel for humans, with the hot springs nearby and the spectacular views of Mount Fuji that reflect upon the nearby lake’s water on calm, sunny days.

It’s a nice place, Kun has to admit, empty and serene. His footsteps echo against white walls, and the suitcase with his neural link gear feels heavy. He’s a professional, has been for many years, yet there’s still this nervousness at the tip of his fingers each time, palms uncomfortably moist.

There are flashes, sometimes, of less palatable things that he has to deal with before starting the process of refurbishing. It happens to him to let it bubble up to the surface when he can’t really help it, and he’s working on getting this under control, but he’s good. He’s made himself good.

Some things, Kun had realized, one could hardly get used to. Screams and flashes of light, briefly, face contorted into ugly rictuses. Humans, as always, were all too human.

It’s part of the deal with adjusting, to see some of the things that humanity has in store for its creations. Kun had never thought he’d end up doing refurbishing as a kid, remembering the reports they’d have in China on the topic, of the underground, seedy world of android adjusters, the things they would do for money. There were shock pictures, too, of the chunky body mods of early Adjusters, huge ports over skin plugging into the spinal cord in fuzzy lights right under the collar. The crazed, vacant looks, Kun hadn’t forgotten either, of men that spent too much time in the neural link.

Sometimes, Kun looks at his own mod, right between his shoulder blades, small, something he’d gotten installed back in what feels like another life, now. It is an older model, as tech moves fast in their business, but that also means he can do jobs kids like Hendery, with his wireless chip port, can’t do. There’s something very tactile and almost craftslike to being properly plugged in, and Kun knows that this part of why he’s made a name for himself in the business. That and, well, the not-so-untrue rumors of his previous, illegal employment, making him some sort of a veteran in a fast paced, cutthroat sector.

It’s funny, how just thinking about it has his hand move against the back of his neck, where the port rests, lukewarm surgical steel against his fingertips. The sensation still feels alien to this day, like something that doesn’t quite belong there, grafted over skin..

Times had changed, and the mass amount of androids produced by the big tech companies warranted a new cautious legalization of the refurbishing process, from both AI rights advocates and some actors within the industry. Kun’s work is legal nowadays. It’s silly to let himself be dragged back to the past.

Outside, there’s the faint sound of birds singing in the afternoon. Kun breathes in, breathes out, calms the headache under his skull, slowly but surely. He tries to think about this being a last job, at last, about words about meaningful hobbies and finding contentment and happiness in the little things.

*

Kun doesn’t expect their introduction to go like this, as he steps into the sterile room, and sets his eyes on the mark for this job. He checked before coming in if the initial deposit had been properly transferred into his account. A safety feature he’d developed over years on this job, of some sort. There aren't any more instructions with the deposit, the process clean and effective and strangely impersonal. For the amount of money the people paying him for this gig want to spend on a single android, his clients seem strangely unfussy about how he’ll be doing his adjustment.

_ Just make sure it’s done cleanly and competently _ , the message Kun had received when he’d agreed to take the job had read.

The android’s a fancy model, that’s obvious, sitting on the tatami floor of the traditional ryokan style bedroom with his eyes closed, seemingly deactivated for now. That’s standard procedure, and Kun comes closer to examine the specs, curious as to what exactly this job is bound to be like. He’s wearing the same stark white pyjamas everyone Kun’s met here so far wears, and he’s thin, thinner than most of the bioengineered androids Kun worked with. Still, there is indeed something captivating about his physiognomy even for someone who’s used to deal with AIs on the regular like Kun. It’s the dainty limbs, the smooth, striking features, and maybe something else that’s hard to describe in words at the sight of a body seems like a puppet with its strings cut.

“Hello. You’ve come to refurbish me.”

Kun doesn’t expect the voice, as he comes in and sets to work, jumping at the soft sound, something actually modulated with fully functional vocal chords. The biotech required to both grow these into a humanoid recipient, and properly tune them for linguistic use, is both rare and experimental, hardly commercially viable at this point. Definitely a higher end model, that’s for sure.

It doesn’t sound like a question, and Kun knows Ten is too developed as an AI from the data he’s got on him not to know how to modulate questions into the right tone.

“I am,” Kun still replies. “Were you not told that I was going to come here?”

That’s a possibility. He’s dealt with irresponsible android handlers who never did the proper work of discussing, explaining and planning out refurbishing to their AI. It’s usually simple enough to rectify that, to sit down and explain everything, bit by bit.

“They told me, so I prepared myself. I hope you did too.” There’s a pointed look to the suitcase Kun’s holding, because the android knows. “Do you need help with setting up for our first session?”

Kun looks at his suitcase, surprised and puzzled for a few moments. It’s the first time he’s ever heard an android offer help for him before he sets to work. No matter how primitive the AI, there’s something about bioengineered thinking systems that have become common in the first half of the 21st century that never changed: a survival instinct that knew the appearance of an adjuster meant death.

Kun shakes his head.

“I’ll be good. You’re free to rest up until I get everything set up for you.”

And so Ten does, closing his eyes, the faint light making the lab grown synthetic black hair shine in the light streaming from the window.

“You’re Qian Kun,” the android states, “ I read about you, in the files... You're the best at what you do right?”

He has this soft smile that's almost catlike. Kun remembers what he read in the file, about Model Ten and about the product line he's part of. He's a pleasure android, one that used to serve in a private residence owned by a billionaire mining tycoon from South Africa. 

From Kun's quick first evaluating glance, he's also a custom model. There are some features about his face that don't really look like the ones you would get on high end products of his generation; the eyes, most importantly, and the nose. They're sharp and piercing, somewhat alien like, not the kind you would find in regular domestic servants. Whoever built him had the means to offer themselves the best of the best.

Maybe that explains the ridiculous amount of money that got poured into this one job, Kun thinks idly as he sets to work, setting up his machine for the evaluation.

“I wouldn’t say I am the best at what I do,” he says as he plugs the machine into the electrical port. “But I do believe I’m competent enough for this to work.”

The android doesn’t respond to that beyond a small knowing smile, a light nod of the head. It feels like a challenge, Kun can’t help but to feel, but it’s not that, it can’t be that, not really, he realizes.

It’s a very nice room they picked for the adjustment sessions, with a large window that overlooks the gardens where reformed androids can wander around while recuperating from the series of procedures that come into refurbishing. That, combined with the money that has been funnelled into Kun’s bank account, should warrant questions as to what exactly happened for Kun to be called for this. The android seems fine, especially for a model as old as the documentation on him states he is. It’s also perfectly possible that it’s a forged document, too, as Kun has dealt with in the past.

The adjuster machine Kun uses is an intricate one, with various components that are both mechanical and bioengineered, a metal casing with what looks like synthetic skin held inside. It’s an older model, compared to the kind of equipment kids like Hendery use, but Kun likes how it fits various types of insert ports and manages to be polyvalent for both refurbishing jobs on ancient android models, and on more recent ones. Calibrating it never really requires too much effort either, which is good enough for what Kun needs.

Ten is very docile, as Kun hooks him up to the machine. Kun tries to be gentle as he does, hands steady, breathing calm. He is an older model, and he’s got a plug-in port at the back of his neck, according to the files, a bioluminescent identical to Kun’s own, almost. The similarity used to freak Kun out, when he’d first started adjusting and was shocked at how close to life androids were, but he’s more used to it now.

“Do you mind moving your head a little bit for me?” Kun asks, because that’s what he likes to do, asking for permission even though the androids he works with can’t really refuse the refurbishing process. 

Ten follows instructions, and his eyes are sharp and piercing as Kun catches his gaze, looking away almost instantly, trying to fight the warmth creeping up his neck. There’s something too intimate in it, as Kun’s fingers graze against his neck, searching for metal entry. Kun is instantly reminded that Ten is indeed a pleasure android. 

“Ah,” Ten gasps softly as the feeling of the cable connecting him to the machine plugging into his port. “It’s been a while.”

Kun shakes his head, a slightly sour smile on his features.

“A while?”

“A while. I haven’t been touched there in a while.”

There’s a teasing look in Ten’s expression, the way he looks at Kun, reminding the Adjuster what exactly being a pleasure android entails. He shouldn’t be drawn so much to a mark, but he is, that’s undeniable.

“I hope we can make it as painless as possible for you, then.”

Kun untangles another cable, holds it out, and he can’t help the surprise on his face as Ten extends his hand, delicate and charming, the way a servant AI should be, Kun knows. The surprise definitely shows enough for the android to pick it up, at least.

“Would you like me to help you get settled for the session?” Ten asks, and there’s still this hint of a smile to his features. “I know how ports work, and yours is the same model as mine. It just seems fair.”

Kun remains silent, but he can’t say he’s not curious, a little bit, at the request. Androids like Ten cannot do him harm. It is beyond their abilities.

“Woud you like to?” Kun can’t help but to question.

“I think I would. If you let me.”

It hangs between them for a moment that feels like an entire lifetime, and Kun can’t find it in himself to refuse. He nods, hands Ten the cable as he sits next to him.

“Sure,” he says, and he feels soft, delicate fingers come to his nape.

Then it comes, the connector pressing in, drawing him into the neural link as everything fades to black.

*


	3. Chapter 3

#  3

Kun’s first experience of the neural link had been an intense one. He’d been freshly outfitted with the port, the metal still uncomfortable as the skin around it healed over it from a clean, yet still back then very illegal operation. Adjusting was new back then, and misunderstood, too, but Kun had given it a chance, out of desperation, maybe, a little bit.

He doesn’t know why he finds himself thinking about it right now, as he stands at the corner of a busy street next to what seems like an open air food market within a busy coastal town. He doesn’t exactly know for sure where they’re supposed to be, but Ten’s choice of interface for their first meeting is interesting. It’s a foreign country for sure, somewhere tropical, and while Kun can understand bits of the haphazard conversations around him, there just is something about them that doesn’t feel like Japanese or Chinese. 

He frowns as he realizes he’s wearing sunglasses, which he picks up from his nose to look down at his own clothing within the neural link. He’s dressed in a loose, colorful shirt that screams tourist on vacation, making him wonder what exactly Ten has in store for him. He isn’t sure if he is to interpret it as an invitation or as a threat, either.

“We’re at the night market in Phuket,” a voice comes from behind him, making Kun jump like a rookie. “Somewhere around 2002?”

Ten’s in front of him, and he looks the same, except from the flowy white linen ensemble he’s wearing. Kun looks at him briefly, still a bit bewildered at the memory location Ten chose to meet him in, as a preparation for refurbishing.

“A historical setting,” Kun notes, intrigued, putting his hands in his pockets and looking around. “Any reason why you picked this one as your interface for this first session?”

More smiling, a wink.

“I’ll be history soon. It just makes sense for me to look further back in the past now.” Ten grins, takes Kun’s hand. “Let’s go look around a little bit. There’s plenty of sensory memories out there to try out that I picked out specially for my adjuster to try out.”

It’s weird to be dragged through busy market stalls under the moonlight in the hot and heavy, humid night of a typical Southeast Asian summer. Androids sometimes prepare for adjusting, but it’s the first time Kun’s seen this to the extent Ten displays, the amount of details and realism he put into creating an interface for them to interact in. There’s this usual slight fog to the experience that comes from being inside the neural link, but it otherwise feels very real, very much like reality itself. A less experienced Adjuster wouldn’t have picked it up, and it is a tap for newcomers to the game, but Kun’s gotten really good at being able to differentiate reality from a session like this one.

A lot of it feels like a trap, but then Ten is a high end android with what seems like a fairly developed AI conscience. Still, the android is charming, as he gets them spiralized deep fried potatoes and grilled meats, fruity novelty drinks and shaved ice desserts. They chat, about small little things the way Kun is good at making small talk, about Ten, too, whenever he gets the chance to dig a little. Ten deflects a lot, talks about the market itself, making it obvious that he’s researched it rather thoroughly. Kun does his best to listen and entertain him, still somewhat unsure as to what this is supposed to entail.

Normally, the process of refurbishing is met with resistance from androids like Ten. It’s to be expected, when Kun’s job is to make them accept the end of a certain existence, and help them move onto the next.

A long time ago, the process of disposing of androids was straightforward. While parts recycling was still common in the early years of the 21th century, a simpler approach was coding rewrites of the central AI, outfitting older models with new additional fleshboards cannibalized from older tech to handle faster, more elaborate neural programs. It made sense as the industry adapted from the loss of extractive industries following the crash of 2020.

It had taken a few years, however, until they’d realized the problems with this older model of refurbishing, up until they’d ended up with a solution such as Kun’s line of work.

“Have you ever been to Thailand?” Ten asks as he munches on grilled meat candidly.

“I haven’t,” Kun says, and he smiles. “You look like you have some special feeling about it, picking this place as our meeting point. May I ask why?”

Ten hums, thinks as he finishes chewing the bite in his mouth.

“My former owner travelled there a lot when he was still alive for work, or at least that’s what he told me, I think,” he says, then looks up at the starry sky. “It’s very different now from that historical reconstruction I’ve made us. Obviously, no open air food markets take place there nowadays, but I liked it a lot still. The beach and the sand, the smell of the sea...” 

He gives Kun a look, and there’s this new seductive glint in his eye that reminds the Adjuster what exactly is Ten’s primary directive as a pleasure android. 

“Sometimes, he’d let me seduce a local boy or girl, kiss and play with them without revealing my true nature,” he adds, something meaningful in the light tone of his voice. “Pretend I was something meant to be loved.”

“Most people aren’t trained to discern between androids and humans,” Kun agrees, and he sees his opening there. “Did you enjoy it? Being wanted as if you were a human?”

Ten giggles.

“Who doesn’t enjoy being wanted for something more than what they really are?” he says, and Kun can’t say he doesn’t understand that, at least a little bit. “Let me show you.”

Ten takes his hand to lead him further into the market. The tell-tale signs of their surroundings being part of a dream are more apparent now. There’s this distinct fuzziness to everything, like a camera objective without proper focus, but somehow Kun knows instinctively where to look.

There’s another Ten in front of them, and he’s just sitting at one of the tables laid out not too far from the food stalls, looking around with a glint in his eyes that feels so lifelike. This version isn’t wearing period-appropriate early 21st century clothing, and doesn’t hold himself like he belongs in these surroundings. Kun knows by seeing him that this isn’t a recreation, but a memory, just by how much sharper he looks than everything surrounding him. The Ten that’s next to him lets out a small chuckle, squeezing Kun’s hand.

“That one is from 2027,” he says, giggling a little bit. “I’d only been refurbished from my previous version then, and the game was fresh and exciting. Let’s watch.”

Kun frowns, but he watches still, as the Ten from the past is joined by another character dressed in an anachronistic way that tells Kun this is another memory. It’s a young man, a human, and he is tall and handsome, towering over Ten, almost, as he speaks in uneasy English, makes Ten laugh, flirts and gets flirted back. He’s gorgeous, too, large hand pressing over the small of Ten’s back, flirty and sweet and smiling with full, plump lips.

It’s weird, Kun feels, even though it shouldn’t be, not when he does the job he does, to be watching what seems like Ten’s intimate memories. He’s definitely seen more disturbing than this, being in the business for so many years, but still. Ten from the memory, dressed in modern clothes that clash in the sea of loose, colorful antique early 21st century costumes, talks and acts like a human in a way that looks too natural, save from the port that sometimes glints over his collar.

There’s something voyeuristic about the tone the Ten who’s standing next to Kun proposes to follow them, and how Kun agrees, because it’s his job, really, in a situation like this. The memory of the two boys flirting moves across the city, to a hotel room, giggles in an elevator, kisses that get more and more heated.

It’s something that matches in a way that makes Kun feel something for the image they paint, the warm weather of coastal Thailand, the cover of the night.

“He was the most handsome I ever had,” the present-day android standing next to him in the interface of their first adjustment session says, a chuckle losing itself in his throat. “The most caring too. I think… I think I might have fallen in love with him a little bit, if I’d could.”

Kun observes the android, and it is one of the strangest first adjustment sessions he’s ever had with a mark. Still, he knows what he’s doing here, what kind of result he is supposed to deliver to the people who pay him to refurbish their luxury pleasure android.

“But you can’t,” Kun agrees. “Androids like you aren’t programmed to fall in love.”

The boys are a memory, and they’re ignoring Kun and the present-day Ten who are standing in the elevator with them. It’s awkward, the way these electric dreams are often sexual, both from the fact that it is one of the primary functions of pleasure androids like Ten, and because these machines Kun adjusts were made, after all, to resemble humans down to their subconscious.

To Kun’s surprise, they don’t follow the two boys to their room. The present-day Ten seemingly doesn’t care much to show that part of the memory to Kun as they get out of the elevator.

“I think you decided to show me this for a reason,” Kun notes, and turns to Ten with a questioning look. “Would you mind telling me why?”

They’re alone, standing in the empty hallway of a nameless luxury hotel in Thailand, this one definitely made from memories. There’s nowhere near as much attention to detail to it, but there’s this vibrancy in the recreation that can only come from personal experience computerized into finely tuned biotech memory. This means something.

“You’re here to refurbish me...” Ten says, and there’s something sharp in his otherwise friendly demeanour as he comes to caress Kun’s face.

Kun doesn’t give him the victory of seeing him flinch, and he knows what an antagonistic android on his first session of adjustment looks like. This is it, but this is something Kun can deal with, he knows, even strange and seemingly unique pleasure androids like Ten. 

“I just want you to know what you should be expecting the rest of the work to be, by now. Besides... “ He looks at his watch, under the white linen sleeves of the loose shirt he’s wearing. “We still have time. Adjustment sessions can only last for one hour at a time, right?”

It is true that adjustment never lasts longer than an hour for each session with the mark. The neural link inside the machine isn’t a place where the human mind is meant to stay for a long time, especially for clearing up accumulated data and preparing for refurbishing the way adjusters are supposed to do. Most androids are aware of this, and Ten doesn’t seem to be the exception, but it is significant to see that he’s timed all of this.

Kun frowns slightly, but he does follow along with whatever Ten wants out of this. He has to, he knows, given what his job is.

“You have something else in store,” Kun states slowly.

Ten smiles more, and it hits Kun, how there’s this subtle thing that’s amiss in it. Something that’s nuanced and maybe like sadness about it.

“I just think there’s something else I wanna show you. It feels silly to hide, you know. You’ll see it at some point or another.”

Kun sees it, now, as there’s another figure that comes in the hallway, a human. It’s a memory, from the way the image and overall feeling of the projection look, but there’s something wrong with the memory Kun gets to see. 

The body is human alright, what seems like a middle-aged man cald in typical tourist gear for a trip in Thailand, but he has no head. The space over his shoulders, where his face should be, is instead occupied by what looks like a gaping black hole, glitching at time, a swirl into nothingness. 

The contrast between the monstrous figure and its relaxed walking pace makes Kun’s hair stand in the back of his neck, as the man passes both Ten and Kun by to join the memory of the previous Ten they’d seen before and his one-time lover. He can’t help but to look, curious and mildly apprehensive at the sight of this, and what it means that Ten holds an entire person as a Corrupted Memory. 

*

**Author's Note:**

> An attempt at something multichaptered this time? I'm not sure yet where I'm going with this, but I needed a distraction recently and this helped a lot~


End file.
